


I want to get lost in you (I'm nothing without you)

by moxiemorton



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxiemorton/pseuds/moxiemorton
Summary: Beca's had a terrible day and her first impression of the studio's new Token Sweetheart is nothing short of disastrous. There begins a week-long feud between Beca and Emily, two polar opposites playing equally important roles in each other's careers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "bemily enemies to lovers fic"
> 
> This turned out suuuuuuuper long so I kind of put it in a separate fic altogether. Also leaves room for potential (keyword) continuation, because the only AU I know how to write is one where Beca and Theo are Emily’s producers so jot that down for the next prompt y’all decide to send me 
> 
> P.S. I know absolutely nothing about producing an album or how a recording studio works so I apologize in advance to anyone who does because you will cringe at the inaccuracies of this fic

If they’d met on any other day, maybe they wouldn’t have started off on such a terrible note.

But it was a Thursday, Beca’s least favorite day of the week, and everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Her bus was late. The coffee machine was broken. A client yelled at her. She forgot her phone charger at home. Another client yelled at Theo in front of her. And yet another client e-mailed her complaining about her  _ and _ Theo. Her laptop crashed. An intern accidentally dropped Beca’s coffee order on the break room floor. A client literally stormed out of a recording session, throwing the expensive studio headphones at Beca, who fumbled and dropped it.

So by the time she was scheduled to meet her new client — some new bright-eyed singer-songwriter type of poser — she was wired up and ready to fight anyone who even glanced in her direction. 

Theo makes the mistake of trying to calm her down while they walk through the studio towards the conference room.

“I know you had a rough day, but this client isn’t like the others, okay? Oka…? Be-…hey. Beca. Hey.” He snaps his fingers in front of her angry glare and pulls back quickly before she has a chance to slap his hand away. “Listen to me, okay? She’s young, shy, and new to this  _ label _ stuff, so she’ll probably be intimidated by all this. We’re not trying to scare her off, yeah?” 

Beca throws her hands up with exasperation. “Great, another fucking turtle to deal with.”

“All right, that one hurt a little.” 

She should apologize but she doesn’t. She grabs the door handle to the conference room, ready to yank it open, but Theo braces his hand against it to keep it closed. 

“What,” she hisses. 

“Beca.” He pulls her aside, rubbing the back of his neck. “This new client could be a big deal for us. She’s got a great voice and a great personality that’ll  _ sell _ . Okay? And she’s a total sweetheart, everyone who’s met her loves her, including the top brass, so please,  _ please _ try and make a good impression, okay?”

“A good impression?” Beca snaps. “Why are  _ we _ making a good impression? It’s the other way around, dude. You said she’s new to all this? Well she should be begging  _ us _ to take her. ‘Sweetheart’ means nothing,” she says mockingly, exaggerating the air quotes. “She’s just another amateur songwriter who’s going to drop us as soon as she sees how competitive this industry is.” 

“All right, you’re going full-bad-cop on this, aren’t you,” Theo says quietly. 

“No, I’m going full- _ good-producer _ on this,” she says, shoving past him. “You might want to stop falling for these clients’ naivety and start doing the same.” 

Beca strides into the conference room without waiting for Theo, slams her folder onto the table, and throws herself in a chair across from the two women who had been waiting for her. They jump at the sudden  _ slap _ of the folder hitting the tabletop, and immediately cease their conversation. 

The older woman, presumably the agent, looks infuriatingly comfortable in her dark jeans and light, sleeveless button-up. The other girl, presumably the artist, is in leggings and a cropped T-shirt. 

_ God, they can’t even come to an initial meeting in proper business attire?  _ What  _ am I wasting my time on?  _

They both look easy-going and relaxed, the complete opposite of the shitty day Beca’s had, so the first question she decides to bark at this poor girl is a harsh and unreasonable, “And what the hell do  _ you _ have to show me?”

She stares at Beca in alarm, her brows knitting together as if trying to determine whether Beca’s joking around or not. She looks at her agent, who just mirrors her expression. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Theo bursts in, smiling tightly. “Just got — er. Held up out there.” His hand grips Beca’s shoulder as he passes behind her to get to his seat, and she resists the urge to bite it off. “I see you’ve met Beca, our youngest and brightest,” he says, extending his hand. “And I’m Theo. We’ll be working with you from now on.” 

“Emily Junk,” the girl says brightly, looking relieved that Theo at least seems like a normal person. “And this is my mom, Katherine Junk.” 

“You’re her  _ mother _ ?” Beca says, looking at the agent and holding back a mocking laugh. “Oh, great. Just what I need. A mom-ager.” 

“Excuse her, please. She’s just had a rough day,” Theo says lightly, kicking Beca sharply under the table. “It’s lovely to meet you both, I heard a lot about you, Emily. And,” he continues loudly, sensing Beca about to interrupt him, “in the spirit of  keeping things brief and non-violent, let’s get right into it, shall we?”

Fed up with everyone and everything, Beca leans back in her seat and lets Theo take over the meeting. She half-listens to him as he goes over all the documents they need to sign, all the material that the studio will provide, all the details of how they’ll be working together. 

It’s a simple and straightforward meeting that usually takes less than ten minutes, but Theo was right to take charge. Beca’s sure she would’ve gotten snappy and come off as a moody gremlin because Emily and her mom both interrupt Theo a lot to ask questions; he handles it with patience and understanding, but in her current state, Beca would have shoved the folder in their faces with a dramatic, “Why don’t  _ you _ lead the meeting, then!” before storming out of the room. 

She just wants to go home and sleep. 

“…and Beca here,” Theo says, pulling her out of her head, “has enormous talent in mixing and layering, so she’ll take point on that.” 

Emily gives her a nervous smile. “Cool. Sounds…uh. Sounds great,” she says, wincing a little when Beca scoffs rudely. “I-I mean. It’ll be an honor working with you. I’ve listened to the songs you’ve worked on and they all sound  _ amazing _ .” 

Beca takes a proper look at her, then, squinting dramatically to make is clear that she’s judging her. Emily’s profile states that she’s still 21, a part-time college student, casual performer at local festivals and events, a beginner guitarist, and a lifelong singer and dancer. She’d apparently sang back-up on a number of small-time albums by no-name bands, but Beca had done no prep due to the shitty day, so she has nothing to go on for that. 

Emily looks like the definition of a good friend. Easy smile. Bright eyes. Warm laugh. There’s a certain way she holds herself — casual, effortless, and confident — that tells Beca that she’s open and ready to take on any kind of challenge. Now that she’s really looking at her, she sees that there’s a towel around Emily’s neck and a gym bag slung on the back of her chair. 

Dance practice. Gym attire. 

Right. 

So maybe she’d been quick to judge Emily’s outfit choice for an important meeting. That doesn’t mean she has to be sorry, damnit. That also doesn’t mean this girl can’t carry a change of clothes with her so she can put away those…friggen…abs… But even through her disgustingly surly mood, Beca feels a smile twitching at her lips just by watching Emily talk so enthusiastically about her music. 

God, she’s fucking  _ hot _ . And  _ cute _ . No,  _ adorable _ . 

And it annoys her more than anything. 

She’s had a bad day. She’s supposed to be  _ pissed off _ right now. 

“Kissing up to me isn’t gonna get you a better deal,” she deadpans, and Emily’s smile falters. Beca should feel bad for being so brutal with her, but she gets an undeniable sense of satisfaction from raining on Emily’s parade. 

Call it some twisted form of sadism. 

“O-oh, no, sorry. I wasn’t…doing that.” Emily ends lamely, shrinking a little in her seat. 

Weak-willed. Easily brought down. Emotions on her sleeve. Her competitors are going to chew her to pieces. Hell,  _ Beca  _ could chew this girl to pieces. 

“A-anyway,” Theo says, giving Beca another kick and earning one for himself in return, “back to the contract…” 

Beca watches Emily through narrowed eyes as Theo re-focuses their attention to him. Her cheeks are still pink from embarrassment, and the enthusiasm that had radiated out of her like sunshine looks dimmer than before. Annoyed at herself for finding this wide-eyed, naive, optimistic girl even mildly attractive, Beca settles back into her role as the pretentious jerk-off. 

If it were any other day, she’d be grateful to be signing such a friendly client for a change. But it’s Thursday and she would sooner die than turn the other cheek to her horrendous day, so she milks her bitterness for all it can offer. 

“And if you feel at any point that this company isn’t fulfilling your needs, we offer an option to terminate the contract as long as you provide an adequate notice period beforehand,” Theo finishes. 

“Won’t last a week,” Beca mutters, and if Emily heard, she pretends that she didn’t. 

“Nope, that’s not necessary,” Emily beams. “I’m sure I can handle anything that comes my way in a professional manner.” 

It sounds like there’s a slight emphasis on the last two words, but Beca decides to mishear it.  

“Yeah, sure you can,” she says, a little louder so Emily can’t ignore her, “just like how you can come professionally dressed to a business meeting.” 

“All right,  _ what _ is your problem with me?” Emily finally snaps, crossing her arms. “I’m trying to be polite and accommodating here, but you’re kind of being overly negative and discouraging. I get that you’re a big-shot producer and all, but you don’t have any right to talk to me that way.” 

“Em, honey,” her mother warns. 

And she’s more than correct — Beca’s  _ definitely _ being an asshole — but having this wannabe popstar call it out like she’s some schoolyard bully only feeds the flames of her flaring temper. 

“If you can’t handle a little real-talk, you might as well just walk your pretty little legs out that door right now,” she bites out, trying her best to hide the slip-up and make it sound like she’d meant to say ‘pretty’ as an insult. “We’re not here to hold your hand and pat you on the back for every little accomplishment. This industry is for people who can handle the stress and the pressure.”

“ _ I _ can handle it,” Emily shoots back, “looks to me like  _ you’re _ the one who can’t.” 

They glare at each other across the table until Theo coughs awkwardly and forces a tight smile. “Oooookay then. Now that we’ve established  _ that _ , I say we wrap up this meeting.”

Without another word, Beca shoots up from her chair and zooms out of the conference room. 

“So much for that spirit, huh?” she hears Katherine mutter jokingly to Theo before the door slams shut. 

* * *

The worst part of that disastrous meeting is that Beca doesn’t regret anything.

Theo had apologized profusely on her behalf, though it sounds like it was a wasted effort since Emily and her mom were more than forgiving. They’re both too soft in Beca’s opinion, and thinking back to everything she’d went through to get to where she is now, she still stands by her guess that Emily won’t last a week. 

There’ve been countless singer-songwriter types who had come to the studio in search of a groundbreaking record deal only to be swallowed up by the tide of mainstream music. It wasn’t like Beca didn’t try; these are paying clients, as Theo’s made it clear on multiple occasions, and she’s not exactly the kind of person to half-ass her work. 

It’s just that these types of clients never last. Sooner or later, they get sick of the lack of album sales or their inadequate music skills or their inability to handle the successes of their competitors. 

Emily’s no different, and Beca feels it in her gut. So she doesn’t regret a thing. But her bad mood dissipates the next day, enough for her to know that Theo will have a lecture ready for her as soon as she comes in.

“Whatever it is you have to say to me, say it after I finish this coffee,” is her greeting as she strides into the studio and right past him to her desk. “It cost a friggen fortune and I’m guessing the studio’s not about to reimburse me even though  _ their  _ coffee machine is broken. So.” She sits down heavily in her chair. “I’d like to enjoy it before you start scolding me for innapprop —”

“— propriate behavior yesterday, yeah,” Theo finishes, crossing his arms. “That’s a lot of words coming out of your mouth for such an early hour. I’m impressed.” 

Beca shoots him a look and takes off her sunglasses. “Eesh, you sound like Sheila.” 

“And who might that be?”

“Beca’s evil stepmother.” Jesse, one of the lead recording engineers at the studio and Beca’s pain-in-the-ass friend from college, sidles in with his own cup of coffee and leans an arm on Theo’s shoulder. He lowers his voice dramatically. “They’ve been sworn enemies since the day of the divorce. Why, what are you guys talking about?” 

“Butt out, doofus,” Beca says. “Adults are speaking.”

“Yeah, could’ve fooled me there,” Theo snaps. “You’ve handled assholes of the highest class without one snide comment…well, to their faces. I don’t understand why this sweet girl got you so riled up, but you better keep your cool when we meet with her this afternoon.” 

Beca groans. “What? We’re meeting with her  _ again _ already?”

“It’s on your calendar, Becs.” Jesse points out. “First recording sesh, you, me, Theo. 2pm.”

“And I want you to be on your best behavior. If I hear one more complaint from her, you’re off this album, you hear? Be-hey. Beca. Look at me.” He waits until she pointedly glares into his eyes. “One more complaint, yeah?” He’s uncharacteristically stern, and Beca bites back the retort she has ready and nods curtly. 

“What, you have a problem with the Emily girl? She’s a total sweetheart,” Jesse says, laughing. 

“And how the hell would  _ you  _ know that?”

“I bumped into her and Theo yesterday after the meeting. We showed her around the studio and she absolutely  _ loved _ all the ‘tech-y things’ I could do.” He digs an elbow into Theo’s side. “You saw, right? Do I have a shot? You think she likes me?”

“I think she likes everyone,” Theo says, unimpressed, “well, everyone but Beca, after the way she talked down to her.” 

“What, did she insult Beca’s reputation or something? Because that’s one surefire way to get a Mitchell beat-down.” 

“No.” Beca doesn’t really want to explain yesterday’s bad mood and the way she treated Emily, because she knows that she’ll sound unreasonable and dramatic. “She gave me a bad attitude and her carefree naive pisses me off.” 

“You gave it to her first,” Theo whispers loudly. 

“Well she didn’t have to give it  _ back _ .” 

She knows she’s being immature about this, but Beca can’t help her anger and indignation from acting up whenever she imagines Emily’s face. And her last words to Beca. God _ damn _ those last words.

I _ can handle it. Looks to me like  _ you’re  _ the one who can’t. _

And she doesn’t even know why it bothers her so much, because Theo’s right; she’s had  _ much _ worse clients who’d practically spat in her face. What Emily said was true and perfectly justified. Maybe that’s why it’s bugging her so much. Or maybe it’s because she’s not used to being talked down to by someone so seemingly sweet. 

_ No, it’s because you think she’s cute and you don’t know how to handle your goddamn emotions. _

Beca chugs the rest of her coffee, burning her throat, and chucks the empty cup angrily into the garbage. No, absolutely not. She refuses to be swayed by this amateur artist, no matter how goddamn attractive and kind-hearted she is, because she is a  _ professional _ who’s not about to be pushed around by sweet-talk and smiles. The music industry is full of harsh realities, and Beca’s going to drill that into Emily no matter what it takes.

When Beca and Theo rush into the recording room after being held up by another client, Emily is already there, chatting with Jesse and running over her music with him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Theo says, quickly shaking Emily’s hand and patting Jesse’s back. “Meeting ran late.”

“Is everything set up?” Beca asks Jesse, peeking into the booth. 

“No sweat, it’s alls goods, and we also managed to record a quick loop for drums and bass in the live room,” Jesse says proudly. “It’s something you can both build off of for music and lyrics.” 

“Thanks, nerd.” Beca says, mimicking Theo and patting him on the back, albeit much harder than necessary. 

Emily turns from the soundboard. “Glad to see that  _ someone _ ’s in a better mood today,” she says, smiling at Beca.

She knows that Emily’s only teasing to ease whatever tension she’d created between them, and the best thing for Beca to do would be to brush it off or laugh along with her. But she’d already gotten an earful from Theo and the last thing she wants is this random girl to try and get all  _ familiar _ with her. Before she can stop it, Beca’s anger flares up. 

“Yeah, well, glad to see  _ someone _ ’s actually wearing clothes today.” 

Which sounds a lot more suggestive than Beca really meant for it to, but Emily clamps her mouth shut, so she calls it a win. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Theo pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh, um.” Emily trades a tight smile with Jesse. “Never mind.”

“We were putting down bets on how you’ll treat everyone today,” he explains. “And since you’d have your coffee, I put my money on you being a little more friendly.” 

“I’m here to be your producer, not your friend,” she tells Emily, rolling her eyes. 

Jesse shivers theatrically. “Man, that was cold. You feel that, Theo?” 

“Don’t involve me in this,” he says shortly. “Let’s just skip the pleasantries, then. Emily, you can go in the booth and warm up while we get settled here.” 

The plan is to record as much material as Emily can provide, narrow down the song count to ten — maybe twelve — for the final tracklist, and clean up the album for a finished product. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering Emily already has a ton of her songs written and basic melodies figured out. Today’s session is mostly introductory, getting the new client used to the studio and recording process, and maybe recording the vocals for one or two songs.

“All right, kiddo. We’re gonna start off with the first verse and chorus of track 1 and see how it goes from there, okay?” Theo says into the intercom, and Emily smiles and nods enthusiastically. 

_ Goddamnit she’s adorable. No, Beca. Stop it. This is business. You’re a professional, you said it yourself.  _

Beca shakes her head sharply as Jesse hits play on the background beats he’d recorded. 

They end up running through the whole song because Emily doesn’t make a single mistake. She sings perfectly on tempo, doesn’t mess up any lyrics, and stays in key even with only a drum beat and bass line to back her up. 

“Sounded great, Emily.” Theo leans into the intercom as soon as the song finishes playing. “Your voice was sometimes in and out, though, so there’re some parts that needs freshening up.” 

“Yeah, the mic is like, a smidge too high. Is there a way to adjust this thing?” Emily asks, touching the expensive mic gingerly. At least she has enough sense not to grab it and yank it around like other singers have done. Jesse hops in the room and points to the dial on the side of the stand. 

“You’d think she’d be tall enough to sing into it if it were on the ceiling,” Beca mutters to Theo.

“Again, don’t drag me into this,” he says, shaking his head. 

“What was that?” Emily calls to the control room, shooting Jesse a thumbs-up as he slips back out. 

“Nothing,” Beca replies unconvincingly into the intercom. 

“Are you really making fun of my height right now?” Emily squints through the glass at Beca, sounding half-annoyed, half-amused. “You wanna come in here and try singing into this?” She asks, pointing at the newly adjusted mic. “Here, I’ll even lower it a foot, maybe you can reach it then.”

“No thanks, string bean,” Beca says, twiddling with the equipment and feigning distraction. “Got more important things to do here.” 

Emily scoffs, and Beca’s temper reaches a boiling point. “Whatever you say, pipsqueak.” 

“Skyscraper.”

“Dwarf.”

“Gigantor!” 

“Pint-size!”

“Your…! Legs are too long for your body and there’s nothing you can do about it!” Beca raises her voice. 

“Oh yeah? I can chop them off!” Emily shoots right back. “What can  _ you _ do about  _ your _ stubby little legs?”

“I’ll take your chopped off legs and use them as stilts!”

“All right,  _ enough _ , you two,” Theo cuts in, bumping Beca’s chair away so she can’t reach the intercom. “Let’s just try and get the vocals done so Emily can leave at a reasonable hour.” 

“Thanks buddy, that was getting gross,” Jesse mumbles. 

* * *

Despite all of their childish bickering, Beca works incredibly well with Emily.

The recording process goes so smoothly that Beca, Theo, and Jesse start looking forward to sessions with Emily; she’s by far the easiest client any of them have ever had, and her sweet and accommodating personality is a breath of fresh air in the suffocating smog of pretentious musicians roaming the studio. Every minor hiccup is fixed almost immediately by one of their suggestions, and every suggestion is taken with delight by Emily. 

After years of having her mixing and layering rejected by pompous idiots who called themselves musicians, Beca can’t believe how easy it is to work with this girl.

And the easiness extends beyond music. 

Working with a weirdo like Theo and a dork like Jesse is always a trip and a half for Beca because they’re always constantly roasting each other and providing sarcastic remarks to practically everything. After a few days of being exposed to their nonsense, Emily picks up on their dynamic and occasionally joins in, drawing laughs from everyone, including Beca. 

She’s not just putting up the front of a sweet girl, as Beca had originally suspected; Emily is a genuine sweetheart with a heart of gold, and despite their constant and ongoing prickly interactions, they have more than a few moments when they actually get along.

But then one of them, usually Beca but also Emily on rare occasions, would realize that they’re actually laughing with each other and not  _ at  _ each other, and they would shut that down  _ really _ quick by throwing in some less-than-kind words about how they’re wasting time. 

The voice inside Beca’s head whispers that she’s consciously keeping a rift between her and Emily because she’s afraid of falling. 

She drowns out the voice by shooting another comeback at Emily.  

And she still stands by her statement that Emily won’t last. 

Maybe she’d underestimated just how musically talented Emily was, but there’s no denying that she’s not cutthroat enough to handle the competition. Even clients in Beca’s roster would eat this girl alive, and there’s no telling how the Grammy-level artists are going to affect her confidence. 

She’s too pure and innocent for this world, and Beca’s job is to give her the tools to fight the battle, not to actually fight the battle  _ for _ her. And she’s not one to go the extra mile for her her clients and hold their hands to guide them through the obstacle course. 

Even though Emily’s hands look super soft and super warm and perfect to hold. 

_ Oh, my fucking  _ god _. Snap out of it, dude. _

When they finish listening to the final demo of the album on Friday night around 10pm, they all lean back in their chairs with a relieved sigh. 

“That is so awesome.” Emily says simply, a huge smile on her face. 

“Sounds solid,” Jesse agrees. “I’d say some of these songs can go straight to the final version without edits, but that’s just my two cents.” 

“Keep them, you’re broke as hell,” Beca says. 

“All right, this calls for drinks,” Theo announces, clapping his hands together.  

They pick up all stragglers still working in the studio and invite them out to the local bar, where Theo whips out the studio’s credit card and starts a tab, eliciting cheers from everyone. Since it’s a Friday night, the bar is jam-packed and full of students from a nearby college, and Beca spends a good ten minutes fighting to get a beer.

“A toast!” Theo yells over the din of the bar as soon as everyone from the studio has a drink in hand. “To Emily. The best client we’ll ever work with.”

Even employees who’ve never met Emily join in with a heartfelt “Cheers!” and drink, and Beca thinks she’ll go blind looking at Emily’s smile. 

Jesse somehow manages to get a hold of a pool table, and he drags Beca over to play round after round and keep the table for themselves. Beca wins two rounds, Jesse wins one, and they call a tie on the fourth game when they’re both too tired and tipsy to make another shot. 

They find an empty table near a dark corner, exhausted but unwilling to leave the celebration. Theo had long since gone home to his wife, even after Beca and Jesse had made fun of him for being a buzzkill by closing the tab on them. 

Most of the studio crowd had gone home too, though, so he didn’t look too bothered about ruining the mood. 

“Upset that we’re done recording Emily?” Jesse asks, pulling Beca’s attention away from her vivid daydream where Theo gives  _ her _ control of the studio credit card.  “Well, for now, at least.”

“Why would I be upset? The girl’s a pain in the ass,” Beca huffs, fiddling with her warm beer. “I’m only upset that we still have to see her for publicity meetings next week. God, what if her  _ dad _ is her publicist?” 

Jesse raises an eyebrow and points at Beca. “Now, I know you don’t care about my opinions,” he starts. 

“As per usual.”

“But I think you really like her.”

“Ex _ cuse _ me?” 

“It’s a defense mechanism you have,” he elaborates, shrugging. “You push away anyone and everyone who could possibly care about you. Have you noticed that?” 

Beca wants to shoot back a witty retort, but since none come to mind, she sips silently at her beer.

“You think you ‘don’t like’ Emily because you don’t  _ want _ to like her. There’s a flaw in everything she says and does because you don’t want to admit to yourself that she’s actually a perfect client. Or just a perfect person in general.” 

“She is  _ far _ from perfect,” Beca says evasively. 

“See, that’s the defense mechanism talking,” he says, bumping his shoulder against hers. “You’re protective of her; it’s pretty obvious. All this ‘the music industry is going to tear you to shreds’ talk is just you trying to save her from the battle  _ you _ went through, isn’t it?”

Sometimes it shocks her just how insightful Jesse can be, putting words to thoughts she didn’t even realize she had. But she’s not about to admit that. 

“You,” she says, bumping him back harder. “Are on crack.” 

“Okay, then prove it.”

“That you’re on crack?”

“No, Becs,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes. He nods his head towards the bar, and Beca follows his gaze. 

Emily’s leaning comfortably on the counter with a brightly-colored drink in her hand, talking to a stranger. She’s smiling while listening to whatever he’s saying, occasionally sipping at her drink. They’re standing close together, which is inevitable considering how crowded the bar area is, and Emily leans a little towards him whenever she laughs. 

“You okay with that?”

Beca scoffs. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, even though there are alarms going off in a deep and suppressed part of her brain.

“All right, then we should get going, huh?” He checks his watch. “It’s past midnight and we’ve been up since six this morning.”   


“Fine by me.”

“Why don’t you go tell Emily that we’re leaving?” he suggests coyly, and Beca picks up on his scheming tone.

“Why?” she asks slowly. 

“So you can prove to me that you actually don’t like her,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “If you truly don’t, you’d have no issue leaving and…well, letting things happen. If you  _ do _ , you’d ask her to leave with us so he won’t be able to.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I don’t make the rules.” 

“You  _ just _ did.”

“Becs.”

“Fine.” Beca slams back her beer and puts the bottle down firmly in front of Jesse. “I’ll go tell her. As a  _ courtesy _ thing, and nothing else.” 

“Oh, because you’re  _ so _ courteous,” Jesse calls as she fights her way to the bar. 

Shaking her head, Beca squeezes herself through the crowd. But as soon as she’s close enough to Emily to see and hear her properly, she sees that she’s not as composed and flirty as she seemed from their table.

She’s completely slammed. 

“That’s soooo funny,” she’s saying when Beca quietly approaches the bar behind her. “That’s like, the  _ funniest _ thing I’ve heard.” 

Beca can bet the cost of all the drinks Emily’s had on the fact that whatever this guy just said was  _ not _ that funny, but by the looks of his easygoing grin, he’s eating it all up. 

“Why don’t I take you to my place?” he says smoothly, smiling at Emily. “We can have our own celebration for your album.”  

Emily giggles unsteadily and Beca rolls her eyes to herself, but as soon as she hears a slurred, “Okay,” she whirls around and pops her head out from behind Emily. 

“Hey there,” she says awkwardly, squeezing herself into the conversation and putting on her overly friendly voice. “Couldn’t help but overhear. My friend’s really drunk right now, so I’m just gonna take her home.” 

“Uh, no, actually,” the guy cuts in. “We were just talking about going —”

“Well as you can see, she’s clearly wasted. So I think we should just skedattle on home, now.” 

“Well why don’t you ask her what _ she  _ wants?”

Narrowing her eyes at his tone and the absurdity of his suggestion, Beca turns to Emily, who seems to have zoned out of the conversation. “What do you want to do, huh? You want to go with him?”

“I wanna…go…catch butterflies in the meadow,” Emily mutters, head swaying a little like it’s too heavy for her neck to hold up. It’s the cutest fucking thing Beca’s heard coming from a drunk girl’s mouth, and she bites back a laugh with difficulty.   

“There you have it,” Beca shrugs at the guy and abruptly drops her friendly tone and smile. “Now piss off.”

He mumbles a quiet, “bitch,” before snatching up his drink and disappearing into the crowd. 

Beca squints after him to make sure he doesn’t resurface. When she turns back to Emily, she finds her trying to catch the bartender’s attention to order more drinks.

“That’s. Okay, no.” Beca grabs Emily’s waving hand and lowers it out of view as the bartender approaches. “No, she’s good. Done for the night.” 

“Oh, Beca! Heeeey,” Emily says dreamily, smiling serenely. “Didn’t see you there, you’re so…” Her eyebrows scrunch together as she trails off, evidently needing to think hard for the appropriate word. “…down there.” 

“Well said. Let’s get you home.”   

“You’re so preeeetty,” she giggles, slapping a hand clumsily onto Beca’s face. Her smile droops slowly into a frown. “But you’re so meeeean,” she says, weakly pushing her face away. 

“Okay, time for bed,” Beca says, pulling her away from the bar. 

“Mmm oh, but first, I really really  _ really _ want…” Emily trails off and looks around the bar as if searching for someone. “Breathing…air. Air! ”

“That’s the idea,” Beca confirms. She guides them both towards the door, weaving through the crowd and tables with difficulty. They inevitably pass Jesse, still sitting at the table and grinning knowingly. 

“See, I told you.” 

“Shut up, dork, she’s drunk as fuck. Call an Uber for her, will you?” she asks tightly, pushing past him. He follows them out the door, pulling out his phone. 

“Well, do you know what hotel she’s staying at?” he asks. The rowdy sounds of the bar cut off abruptly as the door shuts behind them, and Jesse’s raised voice echoes in the silent night. “Wow, that was loud, sorry. But uh…I need a destination, Beca.” 

“Where’re you staying?” she asks Emily, shaking her arm a little. 

“I’m staying…right here,” is her response. “I just wanna walk. Around, and stuff. Breathe.” 

Beca gives Jesse an exasperated look. He shrugs. 

“All right, fine. Let’s walk. Give me your bag.” 

Emily doesn’t move to give Beca her bag, but she doesn’t resist when it’s taken out of her hand. Beca rifles through it to find her wallet and search for a hotel key card, all the while trying to support Emily so she doesn’t topple off the sidewalk and into the street. 

“Here,” Beca says, handing Jesse a flimsy card with a Best Western logo on the front. “Address is on the back.” 

They keep walking while Jesse types the address into his phone, wandering aimlessly away from the bar.

Until Emily suddenly stops and barfs up her guts on the side of the road. 

Jesse runs back into the bar for water while Beca pulls back Emily’s hair before she heaves again, narrowly missing Beca’s shoes and dignity. She tilts dangerously when she’s finished, reaching blindly for something to lean on for support, and Beca rushes forward to catch her hand before she topples over. 

“Oookay. Let’s just. Sit down right here.” 

She guides Emily towards the curb and sits her down slowly in a small space between two parked cars. 

“…’m sorry,” Emily says in a small voice, letting Beca gently lean her head against the bumper of one of the cars so it’ll stop swaying so much. 

“It’s fine, dude. You just drank too much.” 

“No, I mean. Well yeah, that too,” she slurs, waving a limp hand towards the spot where she threw up. She swallows thickly and Beca wishes Jesse could hurry up with that water. “I mean at the bar. I’m sorry that guy called you a bitch.” 

Beca leans back, surprised. “Uh. Oh. You…uh. You don’t have to apologize for that.”  

Jesse rushes back just then, a bottle of water in hand. Emily drinks greedily and drains most of the bottle in one gulp. 

“Uber’s pulling up now,” he says. 

“All right.” Beca stands and pulls Emily to her feet with help from Jesse. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

* * *

Beca’s not sure what she expects when she shambles into the studio Monday morning, but it sure isn’t a backstabbing betrayal.

She goes about business as usual, cleaning up awful demos and firing back passive-aggressive responses to her irritating clients. But then lunchtime comes and goes and she realizes that neither Jesse nor Theo had come in to bother her today. Beca looks around towards their desks with a frown. Their chairs are empty but their jackets are slung around the backs, meaning that they’re in the studio somewhere. 

Going through the studio’s joint calendar, she clicks through to Jesse’s calendar and scans his meetings for the month. When she gets to today’s date, Beca bristles with sudden and surprised anger.

**“Re-recording sesh w/ EJ, 10:30am”**

‘EJ’ could literally only mean one person. 

“Where the hell is Jesse?” she snaps at the intern in charge of booth bookings.  

“Uh…r-room 302,” he says nervously. “But they’re currently recording, so he can’t be dist —”

“ _ Why _ am I not in there?” she interrupts. 

“What?” 

“Why. Am I. Not. In there?” she repeats, ready to spit fire. 

“Well…uh. I was told that Luke took over as producer for that client, so…”

“ _ Luke _ ? Took over?”  

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but —”

But Beca’s already storming off, headed upstairs to the recording rooms. The red lamp indicating live recording is on outside of room 302, but she’s beyond giving a shit. 

These assholes just took her  _ one _ easy client away from her without telling her why; they can re-record whatever it is that’s  _ so _ important it kept them from informing her of the news.

She barges in without knocking, meeting three shocked gazes with her own steady fury. It’s just Jesse, Theo, and Luke in there.

“Where is she?” Beca yells without so much as a hello. Theo slaps a hand on the guitar strings to silence them while Jesse rips off his headphones and shoots up from his chair. 

“Whoa, dude! We’re recording, Becs.”

“Yeah, I  _ know _ from the friggen light, Jesse.” 

“Then you should know to wait until we’re done before coming in here,” Theo says, infuriatingly calm.

“Yeah, you’re lucky we were taking a five-minute br —”

“Why am I suddenly off this project?” she interrupts. “What the hell? No warning, no e-mail? I have to find out through Jesse’s goddamn calendar?”

“It was a last-minute meeting, we had to rush in here before —”

“Where  _ is _ she,” Beca repeats, interrupting Jesse again. 

“She’s gone,” Theo says quietly. “She finished her parts ten minutes ago.”

She glares at him. “Why,” she asks through clenched teeth. 

“I  _ told _ you, Beca. One more complaint and you’re off the album.”

“What  _ complaint _ did I get? The last time I saw her, she was passed out on her hotel bed after puking up $100 worth of alcohol on the sidewalk.  _ We, _ ” she emphasizes, pointing viciously between her and Jesse, “saved her goddamn life.” 

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that she requested a new producer. We do what the client wants, Beca.” His face, as always, remains devoid of emotion. “Maybe you can talk to her. Find out what’s wrong. And maybe,” he says, heading back into the live room with the guitar. “You should start with an apology for being an ass to her the past few weeks. Might get you back on this album.”

Beca ignores Jesse’s pointed look that indicates they’re about to start recording for real, choosing to glare after Theo instead. She knows he’s not going to elaborate any further and that he’s probably right, she should maybe start with an apology, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to hop to it without making it clear somehow that she’s not happy about it.

“The next time you work on this goddamn album!” she calls as Theo puts on his headphones. “I’m gonna be right here with you losers!”

Which isn’t her best exit one-liner, but whatever. 

* * *

Beca goes through a whole journey of emotions on her way to Emily’s hotel.

Most of it is confusion fueled by anger. How  _ dare _ this girl just drop Beca like a sack of potatoes without a sound reason? Who does she think she is? Beca had made every song in that friggen album sound  _ awesome _ , and now she’s being replaced by Luke? What gives?

But some of it, though she hates to admit it, is hurt and betrayal. 

Which is absolutely ridiculous because she’s the one who’s been treating Emily like crap. But at least Beca made her disdain clear to her face; Emily had gone behind her back to get her booted from the album. And after everything she’d endured from Beca, there’s no telling what the final straw had been. 

Well, she’s gonna get to the bottom of this if she has to squeeze it out of Emily like a pimple.

_ Maybe you should start with an apology for being an ass to her the past few weeks. _

“Shut up, Theo,” Beca mutters angrily to herself. 

Despite her resolute vendetta against Theo’s words, by the time she arrives at Emily’s hotel door, the firestorm that had been brewing inside her had dissipated significantly. Though she’d been planning to pound relentlessly on the door until Emily answered, Beca resigns to knocking politely and waiting patiently for it to open. 

Emily is clearly surprised to see her. “Oh. Uh, hi.” 

“ _ Why _ am I cut from the album?”

So much for pleasantries. 

Emily frowns at Beca’s raised voice and peers down the hall. “Okay, why don’t you, like. Just…come in.” 

It’s a small room with one queen-sized bed. The TV is on and blasting some game show that Beca doesn’t recognize. There’s only one suitcase. 

“Where’s your mom?” Beca asks despite the moment. 

“She flew back home for the weekend. She’ll be back Wednesday for the publicity meeting.” Emily strides past Beca and shuts off the TV, plunging the room into abrupt silence. Her gaze is steady and resolute as she turns to Beca. “I didn’t  _ cut _ you from the album. I just requested a different producer for the last leg of it. You’ll still be credited, if that’s what you’re so angry about.” 

That’s definitely  _ not _ what Beca’s angry about, but any indication to the contrary would make her look like she actually cared about spending time with Emily. Which she  _ doesn’t _ .

So she backtracks. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a prick to you, okay? But seriously dude, why the  _ hell  _ was I replaced? You know damn well I made your songs sound fucking spectacular so I know that’s not why you wanted a new producer.” 

Emily crosses her arms and keeps her voice even and calm. “Just thought it’d be better for both of us if we saw each other less. Since you obviously have something against me.” 

“You couldn’t wait two more weeks until we finished up the album? Really?”

“Hey,  _ you’re _ the one who said you were there to be my producer, not my friend. So I stopped considering your feelings — you know, kinda like what you do to me — and just went along with the best, most professional route. Something a  _ producer _ should be able to understand.”   

Which is incredibly practical and well-calculated on Emily’s part, but Beca’s not about to take her firing lying down. “So you gave up. Like I knew you would.” 

“Because you don’t  _ try _ with me, okay?” Emily snaps, all sense of neutrality gone. “I  _ get _ that you had a bad day before our first meeting. I  _ get _ that you lashed out because I seemed like just another disillusioned child with no experience or talent. But even after working together for a week, you  _ still _ refused to try and put our differences aside!”

“I took care of you when you were wasted at the bar!” Beca yells, taking several angry steps towards her. “And I came all the way here to apologize! You don’t think that’s  _ trying? _ ”

“That is the  _ bare _ minimum!” Emily yells back. “You owed me that apology since the very first second we met!” 

“Oh, what, because I hurt your  _ feelings? _ ”

“No, Beca, because you were immature and unprofessional! Two things you’re constantly on my  _ fucking _ back about!”

Beca’s retort gets stuck somewhere in her throat. Emily’s looking at her, just as surprised at her own use of the f-bomb. That’s the first time she’s heard Emily curse. It’s jarring, to say the least. 

It’s also fucking  _ hot _ . 

Her eyes flicker down to Emily’s lips before realizing what the hell she’s looking at, and Beca snaps her eyes back up to meet Emily’s. But she’d clearly been caught in the act, because Emily follows suit and looks down at Beca’s lips. 

And with the heat of their argument gone, Beca notices that they’re standing less than a foot apart, glaring at each other nose-to-nose. 

“Stop that,” Beca says sharply, trying to sound angry. But her voice shakes a little and she can feel heat rising to her cheeks. 

Emily blinks hard and looks up, surprised and embarrassed to have been called out. “Stop what?” she shoots back nonetheless, eyes wandering down again as if she can’t help it. 

“ _ That _ .”

“You started it.  _ You  _ stop first,” Emily says, which only makes it harder for Beca not to look. 

And in a moment of wild and stupid bravery, the words that come out of her mouth are, “Why don’t you  _ make _ me?”

The weight of the challenge hangs heavily in the air as Beca swallows audibly, unsure of whether or not she regrets those words. Emily stares at her, mouth dropping open slightly, frozen in shock. 

They both understand the implications. 

But then Emily’s shoving angrily at her shoulders and Beca stumbles back frantically so she doesn’t trip over her feet and fall on her ass like an idiot. But she keeps pushing and pushing until Beca’s back hits a wall and Emily’s practically on top of her and all she can do is brace for whatever pain this tall monstrosity is about to inflict on her. 

The last thing she expects is for Emily to bend down, loop her arms around Beca’s thighs, and lift her clean off the ground as easily as if she were a toddler. Beca lets out a surprised yelp, hands shooting up to clutch onto Emily’s shoulders and legs wrapping instinctively around her waist. Before she can splutter with shock and embarrassment, Emily’s pushing her against the wall and pressing her lips roughly onto Beca’s. 

It’s a forceful kiss that briefly suffocates Beca, and she has just enough brainpower to be impressed by how they’d avoided breaking each other’s teeth before Emily parts her lips and bites down on Beca’s bottom lip. 

Hard.

It actually hurts a little but Beca can’t pull away or even move her head, and the realization to her helpless position kicks her heart rate into overdrive. Emily runs her tongue slowly over the spot she’d just bit before sneaking past Beca’s parted lips. She’s mortifyingly aware of just how often her breath is hitching in her throat and how hard it is for her to keep from moaning, but there’s not a damned thing she could do while sandwiched between a hot girl and a wall three feet in the air. 

Emily is pressed against every inch of her and Beca is literally wrapped around her, but it’s not enough. 

She wants more. She  _ needs _ more. 

As if reading her mind, Emily breaks the kiss and fixes her mouth on Beca’s neck instead, drawing a sharp inhale from the tiny girl. She takes up a good amount of skin and bites down just as hard as she had with Beca’s lip, sucking at the spot relentlessly until Beca hisses with pain. After giving the spot a gentle kiss, Emily moves an inch up Beca’s neck and repeats the process. 

_ Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Goddamn shit.  _

She came here for an entirely different reason. One that she can’t remember with Emily steadily leaving marks on her neck. One she knows is pretty important and career-related. One that’s supposed to…supposed to…to… 

Leaving Beca’s neck throbbing with several hickies, Emily continues upwards and softly closes her teeth over the shell of Beca’s ear. 

“Fff-…uck,” Beca groans, digging her nails into Emily’s shoulder. 

Emily smiles against Beca’s cheek. “What was that?” she asks, her voice low and husky. She nips at her ear again when Beca doesn’t respond, flicking her tongue along the captured skin. Beca barely suppresses a squeak, blushing  _ hard _ at how her legs involuntarily tighten around Emily’s waist. 

“Noth…nothing,” she manages to choke out. 

“You sure about that?” Emily asks, breathing out a laugh straight into Beca’s ear. She screws her eyes shut as tight as she can as Emily places infuriatingly soft butterfly kisses along the edge of her ear, each touch making it harder and harder for her to keep quiet. Beca bites down on her lip and fights to steady her breathing, trying not to give Emily the satisfaction of another curse. 

Who the  _ hell _ taught this innocent girl such dirty-ass tricks? 

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of a sensitive spot,” Emily teases. “Who would’ve guessed?” 

“You…wish,” Beca says tightly through gritted teeth, letting out the breath she’d been holding when Emily pulls back.  

“You’re really gonna fight me right now?” she asks her, disbelief clear in her tone. 

Emily’s completely unaffected voice sends a shot of lucidity through Beca’s veins, and paired with the word ‘fight,’ she musters up the strength to shove herself away from the wall, pushing Emily with her. Caught off-guard by the sudden push, Emily stumbles backwards, still carrying Beca, until her legs catch on the edge of her bed and she topples over on her back. 

Beca hadn’t expected to turn the tables so drastically, but she smiles triumphantly down at Emily from her new position. 

Maybe  _ this _ is the reason she came down here, to see the shocked and flustered look on Emily’s face as she struggles to throw Beca off. But there’s no way she’s letting this juicy moment slip by, so Beca pushes Emily back down and pins her hands above her head. 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” 

And she drinks in the sight of Emily’s flushed cheeks and stunned expression, losing herself in her bright eyes and perfect lips. 

God, she’s fucking beautiful. 

She’d wanted to make this girl pay for everything she’d just put Beca through, to give her the same marks she’d left on Beca’s skin, to find  _ her _ friggen weak spot so she can draw another curse out of her, but now that she has Emily at her mercy, all Beca wants to do is stare. 

In a non-creepy way, she swears. 

Until Beca’s phone rings. 

“Son of a fucking…” 

“You should answer it,” Emily says quickly. 

Beca looks down at her innocent smile and narrows her eyes. She doesn’t want to let go. She doesn’t want to let  _ her _ go. 

But her phone is ringing angrily and it’s probably Theo calling to get her ass back to the studio. With a resigned sigh, she reaches into her back pocket to pull out her phone.

The moment Beca releases her hand, Emily immediately reaches out and grabs Beca’s side, giving the sensitive muscles there a squeeze. Beca lets out a short scream and accidentally releases Emily’s other hand, and before she understands what the hell is happening, Emily’s surging upwards and throwing Beca off-balance and on the bed while snatching her phone out of her hand. She hooks a leg over Beca and straddles her hips, shooting her a grin before swiping to answer the call. 

“Hi, Theo,” Emily says brightly, swatting Beca’s hands away and pinning her easily to the bed by pressing one hand against her chest. “Yeah, it’s Emily. Mmhm. No, no, Beca’s here. She’s just…” she glances down at Beca, who’s silently struggling against the singular hand holding her down. “…busy.” 

“Give me the goddamn phone,” Beca splutters.    

“Yeah, gotcha. I’ll let her know.” She winks at Beca, effectively shutting the smaller girl up. “Oh? Oh yeah? No, yeah. Sounds great. Thanks. Mmhm. Yup, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye!” 

“You’ll let me know what? What sounds great? Why are you coming in tomorrow?” Beca fires off, still struggling against Emily’s hand. 

“Theo wants you back at the studio ASAP,” Emily says, sliding off the bed and holding out a hand to help Beca up. With reluctance, she takes it and lets Emily pull her to her feet. “Your bosses think I should have a few more songs on the album. So I’m coming in tomorrow to go over the songs we scrapped and see what which ones we can add back on.” 

There’s a sparkle in Emily’s eyes now, a hopeful, innocent light that starkly contrasts the darkened, sultry glow from literally two minutes ago, and Beca reels from the abrupt shift. But there’s no denying that Emily’s excited smile is cute as hell and as beautiful as summer sunshine, so she lets it go. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Emily tilts her head, surprised. “What, no demeaning quip? No, ‘you didn’t fight hard enough for those extra tracks,’ or ‘you don’t deserve these handouts’? Are you…” she leans in so close that their noses are inches apart, “…going soft on me?”  

Beca scoffs, unable to find a good comeback, and snatches her phone out of Emily’s hand. “Later then, nerd,” is all she can manage as she strides past Emily, grimacing at her pathetic parting as soon as she’s at the door. 

“Wait,” Emily says, and Beca turns in time to see her leaning down to place a soft, warm kiss on Beca’s lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she giggles, kissing Beca again. 

A strangled sound escapes her throat, and she races to turn it into a cough. “I…uh. I mean. I can also…if you want,” she stumbles, the hand on the doorknob desperate to yank the door open. “I can come back. Here. Tonight. You know, like…like, after work. If you want,” she adds again quickly. 

Emily raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re definitely going soft,” she teases. “But sure. I’d love that.” 

Before she could make an even bigger fool of herself, Beca nods, salutes Emily for some absurd reason, and throws open the door to the hallway. She’s practically out the door when Emily stops her again.    

“Oh, wait. Um.” She reaches into the closet and pulls out a light scarf. “You uh. Might want to wear this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title song: Lost In You - Three Days Grace
> 
> yes that was an Edge of Seventeen reference
> 
> yell at me: http://moxiemorton.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, for the past few months: lol sorry I don’t write smut  
> also me: *writes an e x t e n s i v e sex scene*

Beca’s good mood only lasts for the twenty minute drive back to the studio.

She smiles like an absolute idiot the whole way, unable to stop thinking about Emily and everything that happened between them in the last hour. The argument. The rough make-out session. The plans for later tonight.

The potential for more.

The smile grows, and Beca quickly tucks her lips between her teeth when she walks back into the office and sees Jesse and Theo at their desks.

“Did you apologize?” Theo asks without looking up from his computer.

Beca wouldn’t exactly call what happened an ‘apology,’ but she figures it’s close enough. “Guess so. Luke can stop babysitting my spot now.”

“Actually, Luke’s staying on.” Jesse calls from his desk. “They’re not changing the deadline for this album, so now it’s a rush job.”

“A rush job? Why does that call for four of us?”

Theo finally looks away from his computer at Beca and frowns. “Why the hell are you wearing a scarf?” he asks, and Beca feels herself go white. Then red. Jesse’s giving her a knowing look but she refuses to acknowledge it.

“It’s chilly.”

“It’s eighty bloody degrees outside.”

“It’s chilly in the office, shut up,” she says, brushing him off. “What the hell do you mean, Luke is staying on? I thought we’re just adding a few songs?”

Theo pulls a face. “That’s a…nice way of putting it.”

“That’s what Emily told me.”

“Then she sugarcoated it. Or didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

Beca narrows her eyes. “Which is?”

Jesse kicks his chair away from his desk and rolls over to Beca’s side, handing her a heavily penciled tracklist. “So they want us to scrap those four songs,” Theo says, “and add six new ones. Ones that we dropped in the vetting process.”

“They want… _what?_ ” Beca runs through the crossed-out song titles and frowns. “These are the _good_ songs. What the hell? Why?”

“Top brass thinks the album will sell better if we keep a more mainstream sound. Since it’s a debut album that’s basically going to make or break Emily as a startup artist, they think it’s best to stick with what they know the masses will enjoy.”

And Beca hates it, hates this part of the industry that prioritizes sales and numbers instead of good music and original sound. She gets it, of course, money makes the world go round and all that shit, but even in her short time here, she’d seen too many artists lose their sound to mimic popular songs and generic pop icons.

“You gotta be effing kidding me,” she says, trying to keep her voice calm. “We just…literally _just_ wrapped…we even had a friggen celebration…and they just…” she clenches her fist, “want to scrap half of what we made? And replace it with mainstream bullshit?”     

Theo shrugs. “We do what they say. And if they say that the album will have better results with ‘mainstream bullshit,’ as you say, then yeah. We’re going with what they think is best.”

“You’re hitting me with all this ‘they think’ and ‘they say,’ so what about you?” she shoots at Theo. “What’s your call on all this?”

“My call doesn’t matter, Beca,” he says. “Not when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

“And Emily?” she dares ask, wiping all emotion from her face so she doesn’t give any indication of what the hell happened in the last hour. “Come on, man. She’s above all that sales and top charts bullshit, she just wants to make music.”

Despite Beca’s prickly tone, an amused smile flashes across Theo’s face. “Had a little heart-to-heart after your apology, did you?”

She desperately keeps her mind out of the gutter. “N-no. I…she’s been saying that the whole time we’ve been recording.”

“Ah, so you _have_ been listening to her.”  

“Answer the question, Theo,” she says, using his name for once. “Emily’s okay with this?”

“Did she seem like she wasn’t okay with it when I told her? You know, on _your_ phone?”

Beca purses her lips and thinks back to Emily’s elated smile. Yeah, maybe she doesn’t care about album sales, but she probably cares about getting her music out there by any means necessary. With her easygoing and go-with-the-flow attitude, Beca’s sure that she would agree to any edits or modifications.

“Damnit,” she mutters.

“You’re _awfully_ invested in this album, Becs,” Jesse says, cocking an eyebrow. “Any reason?”

“Same reason as any client, asshole,” she says, whipping the paper back at him. “We put time into making everything sound good while balancing it with what the artist wants.”

“Well, invest away,” Theo says, standing from his chair and gathering all his material. “Because we got a lot of work to do before Emily comes in tomorrow. Buckle up. Room 210 in fifteen.”

Beca glares after Theo as he slinks out of the office and towards the recording booths.

Jesse rolls up right next to her, and she resists the urge to kick his chair away. “So?” he asks, not quite managing to hide his smile. “Am I right to assume that the scarf isn’t for the ‘chilly office’?”

He flicks at one end of the scarf and Beca smacks his hand away. “Not today, Swanson.”

* * *

Beca drives right back over to Emily’s hotel as soon as she leaves work, all thoughts of their brief connection — both physical and emotional — wiped from her mind after the intensive editing session they sped through.

She arrives back at Emily's door, none of that ‘betrayal’ or ‘conflicted confusion’ shit on her mind. Now it’s just pure annoyance, the kind that buzzes in the back of her mind like an itch she can’t scratch, and it pisses her off the longer it sits there.

She _knew_ Emily wouldn’t last in the music industry, but Beca had imagined something more along the lines of Emily walking out of the contract. It seems a lot worse to have her melt into the pot of all the other generic synth-pop garbage that’s already clogging up the radio.

Not that she cares, _god_. She just wants to rub it in Emily’s face, that’s all.

And this time, she follows through with her raging emotions and hammers her fist repeatedly against the door until it opens.

“Jeez,” Emily whispers as she peers through the crack of the door, rubbing at heavy eyes. “Beca?”

Her hair is an absurdly tangled mess and she’s in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. The room behind her is pitch black save for the eerie glow of the TV. She’d clearly fallen asleep since Beca had left earlier that afternoon; just the thought of Emily resting peacefully on a nice, soft bed while Beca stressed over her decomposing album makes her blood boil.

“What the hell, dude?” Beca snaps, pushing past Emily and storming into her room without invitation.

“Oh, okay. Come in, then.” Emily closes the door and crosses her arms. “Is this gonna be how you greet me from now on?”

The implications behind the ‘from now on’ is a slap to Beca’s face. Emily clearly hadn’t meant it that way, but after the rollercoaster of emotions she’d been riding since this morning, Beca reels from the word choice.

She dives right into it without wasting another second in case Emily throws another curveball at her. “You told me that Theo said we’re adding more songs to your album.”

Emily stares at her, perplexed. “Yeah…?”

“Then _why_ did I just scrap four of your best songs and replace them with six mediocre generic pop tunes? That is totally not the same as ‘adding a couple songs.’”

“Well if you dropped four and added six, that’s technically adding a couple,” Emily shrugs. Her calmness only increases Beca’s rage.

“You’re missing the point.”

Emily frowns, realizing that Beca’s not about to calm down anytime soon, and flips on the dim bedside lamp before reaching over to turn off the TV. “And what point is that?” she asks into the sudden silence.

“That I was right. You didn’t last a week.”

Emily shakes her head with confusion. “What’re you talking about? I’m still here.”

“Yeah, physically, maybe. But you just lost the biggest contribution you can make at a label. Your _sound_.”

“Hey, this is a decision your bosses made, not me! Why aren’t you breaking down _their_ doors and yelling at them?”

“You know why,” Beca snarls. “You, as the signed artist, have the power to negotiate with the bosses to get what _you_ want.”

“And what if the new version’s what _I_ want?”

Beca blinks. “Then you’d be lying to yourself.”

“How deep of you,” Emily sniffs condescendingly.

Ready to spit fire, Beca clenches her teeth and draws herself up to get right in Emily’s face. “You think you’re playing the long game by rolling in with a generic record that no one will hate or love, don’t you? Well you’re not going _anywhere_ or climbing _any_ kind of ladder if you’re not willing to grow a backbone and fight for what _you_ want!” She jabs a finger forcefully into the taller girl’s chest. “How do you think I got to this level, huh? You think it was easy for me to start getting clients that I actually _want_ to produce?”

“Oh, okay, so this is about _you!_ ” Emily scoffs, and Beca bristles at her patronizing tone. “I get it, you’re just projecting your own insecurities and struggles onto me, is that it?”

“Screw you,” Beca spits, wanting to shove Emily but knowing this girl would probably beat her ass up in retaliation. “If this is what I get for caring.”

“ _Caring?_ Are you serious?”

“ _Yeah_ , unfortunately. Shouldn’t have put that much effort into producing the album to reflect _you_ as an artist. My mistake.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t exaggerate. You didn’t put that much effort in for my sake,” she scoffs, but there’s uncertainty behind the accusation.

“You don’t know _shit_ , dude. You don’t my work ethics or client reputation or how I go about my job, so honestly? You have no business assuming that I didn’t put in my 100%, and _god_ will you _cut_ that _out?_ ”

Emily snaps her eyes away from Beca’s lips.

“And don’t even try lying. You _know_ what,” Beca says.

“Well _you_ were checking out my legs before.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Don’t change the topic.”

“You changed it first.”

But the tension between them is already shifting into something entirely different, and while there are deafening alarm bells going off in Beca’s head, she’s powerless to stop Emily when she moves closer.

“No, we are _not_ doing this again,” she warns, though there’s absolutely nothing about her tone that makes it sound convincing.

“And why not?” Emily pouts, and Beca almost loses all coherent thought at the way she shapes her lips.

“Be-because we’re _talking_ , dude.” She hates the quiver in her voice and how she can’t meet Emily’s eyes. “About…important shit. And stuff.”

She moves even closer and hooks her fingers in Beca’s belt loops, pulling the tiny girl against her. Beca doesn’t know what to do with her hands; putting them anywhere on Emily would just seal her fate, but she can’t bring herself to push her away.

She wants this.

But she shouldn’t want this.

Emily makes the decision for her when she leans in to whisper in Beca’s ear, causing her hands to automatically grab at Emily’s shoulders to keep herself from collapsing on the floor. “Keep talking, then,” she challenges, “I’m listening.”

 _Ohh, this dirty little_ —

“— Cheater,” Beca mutters furiously, willing strength back into her legs. Emily pulls away just enough to smirk victoriously, and Beca snatches up the chance before this gigantic vixen decides to pull another move. She grabs the collar of Emily’s hoodie, yanks it towards her, and crushes their lips together. It’s clumsy, miscalculated, and admittedly not the smoothest move Beca has pulled, but satisfaction swells at the surprised squeak from the taller girl.

She doesn’t even hesitate before forcing her tongue through Emily’s lips.

When Emily moans into Beca’s mouth, she can’t even remember what she was so pissed about a few seconds ago. But she remembers that she _was_ pissed for one reason or another, and that it had to do with the girl who is now straightening and pulling Beca up on her toes.

And suddenly she feels her phone disappear from her back pocket. Pulling away, Emily smiles and flips the tab to silence Beca’s phone. “No one to save you this time,” she teases, tossing it to the side.

“That call saved _your_ ass!” Beca shoots back, and fueled by resentment, she musters up all the strength in her tiny body to bulldoze Emily backwards onto the bed. She might’ve pushed a little too roughly, though, because the breath whooshes out of Emily when her back hits the mattress.

But then she lets out an indignant, “Wh-hey!” when Beca climbs on top of her.

“Oh good, would you look at that. Right where we left off,” Beca says, grinning down at Emily’s disoriented expression.

This time, she doesn’t let herself be entranced by Emily.   

Thirsting for revenge, Beca goes straight for Emily’s neck, sucking in hickeys in the same manner as Emily had done only hours ago. Her skin is warm, soft, and perfect — like every fucking thing about her — under her lips, and it just makes Beca want to mark it up even more. Emily moans and hisses at just the right times and in the most addicting way that encourages Beca to keep going.

She knows Emily could push her off if she wanted to. She’s strong enough to toss around Beca like a rag doll; there’s no way she’s heavy enough to pin down someone who’s a good six inches taller than her and actually works out on a daily basis.

She’s letting Beca have her way. That fact alone is enough to send a strong wave of _want_ through Beca that leaves her breathless for more. More kissing. More touching. More Emily. More everything.

Emily’s hands are tugging at Beca’s blazer and she shrugs it off blindly before tossing it aside. She traces her mouth along Emily’s jawline, loving the way she reacts with soft sighs that border on whimpers. When Beca finally reaches her mouth, Emily enthusiastically kisses back, locking a hand behind Beca’s neck to keep her in place. Not about to one-upped, Beca slips her hand under the hem of Emily’s hoodie, gliding her fingertips across the abs she’d drooled over during their first meeting, and slides them higher and higher…

…and Beca’s eyes fly open.  

Because Emily is completely naked under the hoodie.

They both freeze at the same time; Beca’s brain literally short-circuits.

“Uhhhhhhh…why…?” is all she can manage.  

Emily’s neck flushes a deep red. “I…uh. I wasn’t expecting company until later,” she mumbles. “I also wasn’t expecting…well, this. At least, maybe not until _much_ later.”

And then she has the audacity to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively at Beca, and that’s the last freaking straw.  

Abandoning all caution and throwing it into the wind or whatever the _fuck_ the saying is, Beca moves her hand up higher and gropes Emily’s bare chest. Emily exhales slowly into Beca’s neck, breath catching audibly, and lets out a throaty moan when Beca brushes her thumb pad over the nipple.

When Beca shifts the leg resting in between Emily’s to press her thigh against Emily’s center, she all but snaps Beca’s arms under her grip. Beca smirks at the goosebumps that erupt all over and hitches up Emily’s hoodie so her breasts are exposed. After a beat of hesitation, Beca slowly kisses down Emily’s chest, occasionally taking up a little bit of skin between her teeth, and hovers over her chest before locking eyes with Emily.

Then, before Emily can finish calling her name, she closes her lips over her nipple and flicks her tongue against the hardened tip.

Her reaction is so violent that Beca’s almost thrown clear off the bed. Emily’s hand flies to her mouth to stifle half a scream, the other half already ringing through the small room. Satisfied, Beca flicks her tongue out again, just barely grazing the sensitive skin with it while gliding her lips slowly back and forth.

“Sh-…it,” Emily hisses through her hand, squirming helplessly.   

“What was that?” Beca asks, smiling to herself. She doesn’t expect an answer. In fact, she wants to make sure she doesn’t get one.

Emily twitches uncontrollably at every stroke of Beca’s tongue, her breath coming out in short gasps. Her back arches off the bed when Beca gropes at the other boob with her free hand, pinching and teasing relentlessly.

“You… _fuck_ .” Hearing Emily trying to speak, Beca presses her thigh against Emily again, drawing out a swear instead. “ _Beca_ ,” she gasps.  

“Yes?”

Emily tries to glare at her, maybe even cuss her out, but her head falls back against the pillows when Beca shifts her thigh into her again. “Will you _stop_ that.”

“You don’t like it?” she asks innocently, doing it again. Beca can feel Emily’s pulsing heat against her leg, even through her pajama shorts, and she _aches_ to touch her.

“Y-you’re…” She inhales sharply as Beca reattaches her mouth to her neck. “…killing me.”

“Well that’s not good, is it?” She traces a finger right above the waistband of Emily’s shorts. “Is there…something I can do to help?”

Emily moans with anticipation as Beca pulls down her shorts, not even bothering with words as she wiggles free and kicks them off to the side. In the spur of the moment, Beca reaches up and tugs the hoodie off too, for good measure.

And then she pauses because now she’s looking down at a very naked Emily, breathless and flushed and clad in only a very skimpy, very lacy pair of underwear. And _shit,_ she’s freezing over again.

Because Emily’s not just beautiful. She’s fucking _gorgeous_.

“Beca,” Emily groans, pulling her into a very hot, very wet kiss, and Beca responds numbly, suddenly unsure of whether or not she’s worthy of touching this perfection of a human being. “Beca,” Emily repeats, her tone urgent and desperate.

“Y-yeah?” she stutters, unable to regain the teasing tone.

Emily shivers. “God, Beca,” she says, so quietly that Beca has to lean in to hear. As soon as she does, Emily pulls her in roughly and presses her mouth against Beca’s ear. “Touch me.”

The words are whispered but they make Beca flinch back as if they were shouted through a megaphone. It’s the last thing she’d ever expected to hear from Emily, whispered in her ear in a dark hotel room in _that_ kind of tone.

She did this. She turned Emily into this desperate, begging mess.

Beca licks her lips and bites back the smirk that returns with her confidence. “What’s the magic word?” she chides, running a finger lightly over the dampness of her panties. Emily makes a sound somewhere in between a moan and a growl.

“You…fine, _please_ touch m-mmm! — _Shit_.”

Beca slips her hand into Emily’s underwear before she has a chance to finish, gliding her fingers through the slick folds and hissing softly with pain when Emily digs all of her nails into her shoulder blades. Her hips buck upwards at Beca’s touch, clearly wanting more.

“Jesus, Emily,” Beca says, dragging a soaked finger up to her clit and rubbing it in soft circles. “Is this all for me?”

Emily blushes an impossibly deep shade of red and bites down on her lip, refusing to rise to the bait. Not about to accept silence as an answer, Beca presses her palm against Emily’s clit and slides an experimental finger inside her.

“F-…ho-…holy _fuck_ ,” Emily gasps, every muscle in her body tensing. Beca pulls out and adds another finger before slipping inside again, loving the way Emily feels around her. She pumps her fingers slowly, teasing the clit with her thumb, and only picks up the pace when Emily begs her to.   

Beca presses her nose into the crook of Emily’s neck, getting addicted to every moan that spills from her mouth and every involuntary jerk her body makes. She sucks one more hickey onto Emily’s collar bone, smiling when she tangles her fingers in Beca’s hair.

“Beca,” she begs, and this time, Beca doesn’t make her spell it out. She curls her fingers inside Emily on the next thrust, earning her long scratches down her back, and feels Emily tighten around her. Her breathing gets more and more ragged with every thrust and curl of Beca’s fingers, and Beca can sense that she’s close.

“Shhh _it_ …B-Beca, I’m… _god_ , I’m gonna…!”   

Then her whole body tightens under and around Beca and her mouth is opening in a silent scream, arms going rigid around Beca’s back. She gasps and trembles as Beca slows her fingers, bringing Emily down slowly and easing out of her as gently as she can.

“Holy shit,” they mumble in unison, and neither can stop from smiling.

“Jinx,” Beca says first. “You owe me a beer.”

Emily laughs breathlessly, chest still heaving. “I think I owe you more than that.”

And Beca’s already worked herself up just by watching Emily, so she’s more than happy to collect that debt right away. But Emily’s eyes are fluttering closed, her movements growing slow and heavy.

“Yeah, okay, dude.” She tugs the comforter out from under Emily and throws it over her, covering her distracting nakedness. “You’re not about to be doing me any favors half-asleep, so.”

Emily pulls the comforter around her and sinks into the pillows. “I just need like. A nap.”

Beca scoffs. “Weak.”

“Shut up.”

Beca lays down next to Emily, her own eyes growing heavy. She knows she should go home, leave Emily to rest, push all the awkwardness to tomorrow morning at the studio. But Emily doesn’t complain when she settles down on her bed, doesn’t tell Beca to get out. She actually reaches over and slips her hand into Beca’s.

Which sets off a whole different series of alarm bells in Beca’s head.

“Six times,” she says suddenly and without context, knowing that Emily won’t understand what she’s talking about.

As expected, Emily turns to give her a confused look. “Six times…what?”

“Made you curse,” Beca says. “Six times.”

“You _counted_?”

“It’s an accomplishment worth counting.”

Emily shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

And maybe she really is.

Sleeping with a client is one thing. It’s definitely not recommended, but it’s not uncommon. Theo’s told her and Jesse some wild stories about hookups within the studio, some of them with coworkers they’re friendly with, and she knows for a fact that Jesse has had an eye on more than a few female clients.

No, it’s not the fact that she slept with a client that Beca finds ridiculous.

It’s that maybe, quite possibly, after hearing Emily moan her name and beg her to touch her, Beca’s fallen hard for this particular client.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written anything like this in ten years so like...fuck it
> 
> prompts at http://moxiemorton.tumblr.com/


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